The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo (10 page)

Ravi looked at me for so long I felt shy. I
raised my hands to my face to cool my cheeks. Ravi reached out and
took my hands before I could do it.

"You think I might have stopped since five
minutes ago?" he said.

"Well," I said. "I thought I'd best make
sure."

There is one last thing to remember. I asked
Ravi how he'd known my name.

"Jade?" he said.

"No," I said. "My real name."

"Ah." He smiled: the same smile he'd turned
to me the first day I met him, that said,
I have always known
you
.

"You wrote it at the end of the first letter
you sent me, about the Waley article," said Ravi. "You crossed it
out and wrote Jade in its place. But I remembered."

My dearest Margery,

I'm sorry I did not tell you I was going to
leave before I did it. But when Ravi came I knew I should have to
make a break for it, as if I were a prisoner escaping his gaol, or
I should never bring myself to do it, but be stuck at Mrs.
Crowther's forever. It was my decision to go there and I felt
duty-bound to stick by it.

Well, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin
of little minds, Emerson says. I think I shall work on having a
great mind from now on, like yours. Ravi is consistent, but that is
because he is always right about everything. It comes to him
naturally, as singing does to a nightingale.

My blessed girl, thank goodness you wrote
him. I shall never be able to thank you enough for the favour you
did me then. I shall dedicate my next article in
Milady's
Boudoir
to you—it is a delicious piece on this spring's
hemlines—but that can only go a very little way towards repaying
the debt.

There is another thing I have not told you,
and you will quite justifiably be cross that I haven't, but I hope
you will see why it had to be done in such a hurry. I have got
married to Ravi. We are tremendously happy, though not entirely
respectable: we are living in his lodgings in London, but the
landlady doesn't like it, and it is no place to have a baby in any
case. My two other friends have offered us the use of their country
house in Sussex for my confinement, but we shan't be staying there
too long, I hope. We think of heading eastwards soon.

If you are vexed to have missed my wedding,
as rushed and prosaic an affair as that was, imagine what my mother
will have to say to me. I shall be very glad to see my parents
again and to meet Ravi's family, but I may pack a full suit of
armour in preparation—and fireproofed underthings.

It seems rather cold to be at Brighton, but I
hope you are having a wonderful time with Cordelia and even
Reginald. If you aren't too busy looking charming in a bathing suit
and building rock castles with shingle from the beach, will you
come and see me in Sussex one of these days? We shan't be going
anywhere until the baby is born, and I should love for you and Ravi
to meet. You would like each other, and even if you do not, I have
enough liking for the both of you to go around. Do let me know if
you can come—and write, whether you can or not.

The worm sends its love, and so does

Yr affate

Geok Huay (Jade)

Thank you for reading
The Perilous Life of
Jade Yeo
.

If you liked this novella, you may enjoy my
other stories, several of which are available to read for free
online—check out
http://zencho.org/short-fiction
.

If you would like to know when I have new
stories out, you can visit my website at
http://zencho.org
, follow me on
Twitter at
@zenaldehyde
or on
Facebook at
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, or
sign up to my
mailing list
for updates on new releases.

Sorcerer to the
Crown
is my debut novel, the first in a historical
fantasy trilogy set in Regency England. Zacharias Wythe, England's
first African Sorcerer Royal, is trying to reverse the decline in
England's magic, when his plans are hijacked by ambitious runaway
orphan and
female
magical prodigy, Prunella Gentleman. The
book is out in the US from
Ace/Roc Books
and in the UK and Commonwealth from
Pan Macmillan
from September 2015. Click
here
for
more information and details of how to buy it.

Spirits Abroad
is a collection of short SFF stories by me, published by Malaysian
indie press
Fixi
. It is a joint winner of the
Crawford Fantasy Award. The print version is available from
Fixi
in
Malaysia and
Amazon.com
outside
Malaysia. The ebook has additional content and is available on
Smashwords
.

Cyberpunk:
Malaysia
is an anthology of short cyberpunk stories by
Malaysian authors, edited by me. Buy the print version from
Fixi
(in
Malaysia) or
Amazon.com
(outside Malaysia), or get the ebook from
Smashwords
or
Google Play
.

If you'd like to read an excerpt from
Spirits Abroad
, please turn the page.

Vivian's late
grandmother was a witch — which is just a way of saying she was a
woman of unusual insight. Vivian, in contrast, had a mind like a
hi-tech blender. She was sharp and purposeful, but she did not
understand magic.

This used to be
a problem. Magic ran in the family. Even her mother's second
cousin, who was adopted, did small spells on the side. She sold
these from a stall in Kota Bharu. Her main wares were various types
of fruit fried in batter, but if you bought five pisang or cempedak
goreng, she threw in a jampi for free.

These
embarrassing relatives became less of a problem after Vivian left
Malaysia. In the modern Western country where she lived, the public
toilets were clean, the newspapers were allowed to be as rude to
the government as they liked, and nobody believed in magic except
people in whom nobody believed. Even with a cooking appliance mind,
Vivian understood that magic requires belief to thrive.

She called home
rarely, and visited even less often. She was twenty-eight, engaged
to a rational man, and employed as an accountant.

Vivian's
Nai Nai would have said that she was attempting to deploy
enchantments of her own — the fianc
é,
the ordinary hobbies and the sensible office job
were so many sigils to ward off chaos. It was not an ineffective
magic. It worked — for a while.

There was just
one moment, after she heard the news, when Vivian experienced a
surge of unfilial exasperation.

"They could
have call me on Skype," she said. "Call my handphone some more!
What a waste of money."

"What's wrong?"
said the fiancé. He plays the prince in this story: beautiful,
supportive, and cast in an appropriately self-effacing role — just
off-screen, on a white horse.

"My
grandmother's passed away," said Vivian. "I'm supposed to go
back."

Vivian was not
a woman to hold a grudge. When she turned up at KLIA in harem
trousers and a tank top it was not through malice aforethought, but
because she had simply forgotten.

Her parents
embraced her with sportsmanlike enthusiasm, but when this was done
her mother pulled back and plucked at her tank top.

"Girl, what's
this? You know Nai Nai won't like it."

Nai Nai had
lived by a code of rigorous propriety. She had disapproved of
wearing black or navy blue at Chinese New Year, of white at
weddings, and of spaghetti straps at all times. When they went out
for dinner, even at the local restaurant where they sat outdoors
and were accosted by stray cats requesting snacks, her
grandchildren were required to change out of their ratty pasar
malam T-shirts and faded shorts. She drew a delicate but
significant distinction between flip-flops and sandals, singlets
and strapless tops, soft cotton shorts and denim.

"Can see your
bra," whispered Ma. "It's not so nice."

"That kind of
pants," her dad said dubiously. "Don't know what Nai Nai will think
of it."

"Nai Nai won't
see them what," said Vivian, but this offended her parents. They
sat in mutinous silence throughout the drive home.

Their terrace
house was swarming with pregnant cats and black dogs.

"Only six
dogs," said Vivian's mother when Vivian pointed this out. "Because
got five cats. Your sister thought it's a good idea to have more
dogs than cats."

"But why do we
have so many cats?" said Vivian. "I thought you don't like to have
animals in the house."

"Nai Nai
collected the cats," said Vivian's sister. "She started before she
passed away. Pregnant cats only."

"Wei Yi," said
Vivian. "How are you?"

"I'm OK.
Vivian," said Wei Yi. Her eyes glittered.

She'd stopped
calling Vivian jie jie some time after Vivian left home. Vivian
minded this less than the way she said 'Vivian' as though it were a
bad word.

But after all,
Vivian reminded herself, Wei Yi was seventeen. She was practically
legally required to be an arsehole.

"Why did Nai
Nai want the pregnant cats?" Vivian tried to make her voice
pleasant.

"Hai, don't
need to talk so much," said their mother hastily. "Lin — Vivian so
tired. Vivian, you go and change first, then we go for dinner. Papa
will start complaining soon if not."

It was during
an outing to a prayer goods store, while Vivian's mother was busy
buying joss sticks, that her mother's friend turned to Vivian and
said,

"So a lot of
things to do in your house now ah?"

Vivian was shy
to say she knew nothing about what preparations were afoot. As her
mother's eldest it would only have been right for her to have been
her mother's first support in sorting out the funeral
arrangements.

"No, we are
having a very simple funeral," said Vivian. "Nai Nai didn't believe
in religion so much."

This was not a
lie. The brutal fact was that Nai Nai had been an atheist with
animist leanings, in common with most witches. Vivian's mother
preferred not to let this be known, less out of a concern that her
mother would be outed as a witch, than because of the stale
leftover fear that she would be considered a Communist.

"But what about
the dog cat all that?" said Auntie Wendy. "Did it work? Did your
sister manage to keep her in the coffin?"

Vivian's mind
whirred to a stop. Then it started up again, buzzing louder than
ever.

Ma was
righteously indignant when Vivian reproached her.

"You live so
long overseas, why you need to know?" said Ma. "Don't worry. Yi Yi
is handling it. Probably Nai Nai was not serious anyway."

"Not serious
about what?"

"Hai, these old
people have their ideas," said Ma. "Nai Nai live in KL so long, she
still want to go home. Not that I don't want to please her. If it
was anything else ... but even if she doesn't have pride for
herself, I have pride for her!"

"Nai Nai wanted
to be buried in China?" said Vivian, puzzled.

"China what
China! Your Nai Nai is from Penang lah," said Ma. "Your Yeh Yeh is
also buried in Bukit Tambun there. But the way he treat Mother, I
don't think they should be buried together."

Vivian began to
understand. "But Ma, if she said she wanted to be with him—"

"It's not what
she wants! It's just her idea of propriety," said Ma. "She thinks
woman must always stay by the husband no matter what. I don't
believe that! Nai Nai will be buried here and when her children and
grandchildren pass on we will be buried with her. It's more
comfortable for her, right? To have her loved ones around her?"

"But if Nai Nai
didn't think so?"

Ma's painted
eyebrows drew together.

"Nai Nai is a
very stubborn woman," she said.

Wei Yi was
being especially teenaged that week. She went around with lightning
frizzing her hair and stormclouds rumbling about her ears. Her
clothes stood away from her body, stiff with electricity. The cats
hissed and the dogs whined when she passed.

When she saw
the paper offerings their mother had bought for Nai Nai, she threw
a massive tantrum.

"What's this?"
she said, picking up a paper polo shirt. "Where got Nai Nai wear
this kind of thing?"

Ma looked
embarrassed.

"The shop only
had that," she said. "Don't be angry, girl. I bought some bag and
shoe also. But you know Nai Nai was never the dressy kind."

"That's because
she like to keep all her nice clothes," said Wei Yi. She cast a
look of burning contempt at the paper handbag, printed in heedless
disregard of intellectual property rights with the Gucci logo.
"Looks like the pasar malam bag. And this slippers is like old man
slippers. Nai Nai could put two of her feet in one slipper!"

"Like that
she's less likely to hop away," Ma said thoughtlessly.

"Is that what
you call respecting your mother-in-law?" shouted Wei Yi. "Hah, you
wait until it's your turn! I'll know how to treat you then."

"Wei Yi, how
can you talk to Ma like that?" said Vivian.

"You shut up
your face!" Wei Yi snapped. She flounced out of the room.

"She never even
see the house yet," sighed Ma. She had bought an elaborate palace
fashioned out of gilt-edged pink paper, with embellished roofs and
shuttered windows, and two dolls dressed in Tang dynasty attire
prancing on a balcony. "Got two servants some more."